


But You're Mine

by HaveAGoodeDay



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Homophobic Language, Protectiveness, Short & Sweet, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11797002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaveAGoodeDay/pseuds/HaveAGoodeDay
Summary: When people say, you're not my kind,And that your clothes are out of line,And that your hair isn't combed all the time,You're not real pretty but you're mine...Girlfriends stand up for each other. Duh.





	But You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a one shot. I did it.
> 
> song: But you're mine by Sonny and Cher

_When people say, you're not my kind,_  
_And that your clothes are out of line,_  
_And that your hair isn't combed all the time,_  
_You're not real pretty but you're mine_.

  
..

  
“Why can’t we get gummy bears?”

Holtzmann whines, pushing the cart behind Erin as they walk through the produce section. The redhead picks up an avocado, not looking at her companion as she replies,

  
“You eat them too fast.” Erin’s lips quirk up in a smile, catching the sight of Jillian frowning at mangos from the corner of her eye. “A five pound bag of them should last at least a week.”

  
Holtz sighs, stands up on the lower bars of the cart and the added inches makes them the same height. She sticks her tongue out at Erin playfully.

  
Then three teenage boys, loud and rowdy, walk past. One eyes Holtzmann with almost distaste, then kicks their cart with his expensive Jordan clad shoes. It sends Holtz stumbling off, catching herself on the fruit bin as the boy spits at her,

  
“ _Dyke_.”

  
Erin’s hands loosen around the avocado, no longer testing its ripeness. She makes the horrible decision of looking at Jillian, who won’t meet her eyes.

  
The boys don’t immediately drop it, a hurl of insults said clearly by his friends and a chorus of laughter following it.  
“It’s fine.” Holtz assures, under her breath. “I mean, look at me.”

  
She gestures to the overalls she wears, purple and paint covered. The red and black flannel covering her top half in way of a jacket. Her hair piled up and held there with her glasses.

  
“I get it a lot.” She winks, like this is ok.  
Erin bristles, something she often does. Turning to the boys, she keeps her voice calm and even as she tells them,

  
“I would leave if I were you,” Holtzmann stands behind her, but even without the visual confirmation Erin could bet that she's got an eyebrow quirked and a curious look, “before I get the store manager and you all have to explain to your parents why you aren't allowed back in here.”

  
The tallest, about Holtz's height, puffs his chest out and calls out, “You're buffing.”  
“I've been shopping here since before you were born.” Erin feels herself smile when they all step back, “Take your chances, if you want to.”

  
“Fine.” The one farthest away relents, voice cracking. “This place sucks anyway.”  
When they all take off toward the exit, sneakers squeaking, Erin looks to Jillian who stands mildly shocked.

  
“What?” Erin questions, cheeks blushing a faint red.

  
“I just… You didn't have to do that.”

  
“I did.” Her arm comes around, wraps Holtz into her side and they take a moment by the mangos to share a not very private moment.

  
“You might look like a ‘ _dyke_ ',” Erin pinches the fabric of the flannel shirt, playful in her tone. She grabs the fabric and uses it to pull Jillian closer for a kiss.

  
“But you're _my_ dyke.”

  
..

  
_We have a great big old society,_  
_That won't make room for folks_  
_Like you and me,_  
_But I got some real sad news,_  
_For them my friend,_  
_They're on the outside looking in._

  
..

  
Erin is horribly confused when her girlfriend comes out of their bedroom in formal wear. On a Monday. At nine in the morning.

  
Her mind scatters to anything forgotten. Anniversaries? Dates? Funerals? She's wearing a pale tan colored waist coat, probably not a funeral. But it's Jillian, anything goes.

  
Then to make it worse, she steps over to the coffee table and picks up an innocent looking messager bag. Old worn leather going over her shoulder easily.

  
“Uh, honey…” The coffee cups for their breakfast sit steaming away on the table in front of Erin, who’s eyes follow Holtz on her way over. “What’s all this for?”

  
“Oh.” Holtz looks down at herself when she sits. At the black silk tie and polished shoes. “I have a meeting.”

  
Now the darker haired woman knows something's wrong, the only meetings Jillian has is a weekly visit to the McDonald's down the block that's so regular they already have her food ready when she shows up.  
“Might I ask with who?”

  
Holtz smears grape jelly on her toast, takes a bite and grins cheekily at Erin across the table, “The dean of Columbia university.”

  
“The _what_ now?”

  
“I didn't have food in my mouth.” Jill teases, “You heard me correctly.”

  
“ _Why_?”

  
“I scheduled it.” She waves it off like no big deal, adding butter to her bread with vigor, “I wanted to show him you were right.”

  
_The contents of the bag_ , Erin thinks. Then she asks, “Proof?”

  
“Two years worth of it.” Holtz admits, “Undeniable evidence of paranormal entities.”

  
Although the mayor kindly requested them to lay low after a near world ending event, the scientific community refused to let such things go undiscussed. More likeminded people researched across the country. Holtz might of sent them a few hints, but don't tell Abby about that.

  
To put it easy, the world believes in spooks.

  
“Why are you doing this?” Erin’s quiet, obvious in her worry and furrowed brows.

  
“To clear your name of that undue firing.”

  
“ _Can_ he do that?” Erin’s chest bursts with affection, watching her girlfriend pouring three times a consumable amount of sugar in her coffee.

  
“He better be. Or else I'll be letting go three canisters of ghosts in the parking lot.”

  
“You _can't_ do that.”

  
Holtz stands, eats the last of her toast before planting a grape-flavored kiss to the side of Erin's mouth on her way out of the apartment.

  
“Watch me.”

  
..

  
_So when we're walking I don't care_  
_When all those people stop and stare,_  
_If they'd look in your eyes they'd see,_  
_You're not that pretty but you belong to me_.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! review if you'd like


End file.
